


Lessons (Not) Learned

by Fledgling



Category: Transformers: Prime, Transformers: Shattered Glass
Genre: And he wants the D, M/M, Smokescreen purposefully taunts Optimus to get what he wants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-02
Updated: 2013-11-02
Packaged: 2017-12-31 07:37:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1029015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fledgling/pseuds/Fledgling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Optimus is tired of Smokescreen thinking he can get away with anything. So he decides to try and teach him a lesson. Again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lessons (Not) Learned

**Author's Note:**

> It's kinda like Starscream and Megatron, only it's Smokescreen and Optimus. It's actually kinda hilarious when you think about it.

Humans, as a rule, were fragile.  
He transformed quickly, standing tall amongst the flaming wreckage of what was once a gas station. People who weren't already screaming started to as he advanced towards them, laughing maniacally. Not really because he was enjoying this- although he was, very much so- but because it was unnerving, especially when he purposefully ground a few gears together for good measure. The humans were scrambling over top of each other, trying to flee. It was pathetic, but really, what else could they do? They couldn't fight, definitely.  
Smokescreen knelt down, and easily flipped a semi over with his servo, exposing the two teens hidden under it. They were huddled together, looking up at him with wide eyes. One, a male, was too shocked to make a move or a sound, his jaw hanging open uselessly. The female made enough noise for the both of them, however.  
"Tch. Humans are all so noisy." He reached down, plucking the female up. "But there's an easy fix for that." he murmured, partially to himself, and squeezed her until she made a quiet pop.  
"Hm. What a mess." he mumbled as he opened his servo, which was quickly being covered blood. It was an odd feeling, and if he wasn't careful it would dry and become a tacky mess. He glanced down at the remaining human, who had finally started to scream. He rolled his optics, and with a flick of his wrist flipped the semi back over on top of him. He dropped the female beside the car, and drew himself up to full height. He turned his helm this way and that, surveying the damage with a sense of satisfaction, though he was a little disappointed that there were no humans left.  
::Ratchet. I'm done here.:: he said over his comm. A moment later, a GroundBridge spiraled to life behind him. He took one last look around, noting the large number of lights and sirens charging his way, and walked through the GroundBridge feeling better than he had when he stepped out of it on his mission earlier.  
Coming out on the other side, he smiled cheekily at the medic manning the controls. "Ratchet. Do you know where Optimus is?"  
Ratchet huffed and rolled his eyes. "Busy. You'll have to wait, though I know how it pains you." he said, the tone of his voice contradicting the sympathetic sounding words. "I'd suggest you go get all that organic mess off of you. Optimus doesn't like it when his playthings are filthy."  
"Really? I figured you'd be more concerned about the fact that you'd have to fix me if, say, all this blood dries in my joints." Smokescreen retorted, already walking away.  
"And I'd enjoy every second of tearing you apart to properly clean every millimeter of you."  
Smokescreen huffed. "He's a joy to have in the berth, isn't he?" he mumbled to Wheeljack as they passed. Wheeljack smirked by way of an answer, pulling on the deep scars that covered his face.  
Smokescreen strut down the corridor, grinning widely. While killing and terrorizing was always fun, it was a pain to get the organic filth gone. Ratchet was right though: Optimus hated the organics more than anyone. Getting clean was a must before seeing his leader.  
Clean to the point of glowing, Smokescreen trotted down the hall to Optimus' office. He considered knocking for a moment, but decided against it and waltzed in. He skillfully dodged the large knife that flew at his helm, letting it hit the wall instead with a loud _thunk_. He pulled it out, flipping it around in his servo as he sauntered to the desk that took up the center of the room.  
"You should be thankful I'm so flexible. That could have done some damage." he purred, perching on the edge of the desk and crossing his legs. He arched his back, just enough to be noticeable but not look deliberate. He was good at that. "And we wouldn't want that, would we?" He grinned, and sunk the knife into the desk.  
The Prime lowered his glare from Smokescreen's face to the knife, then back up to his face. He hated the slag-eating grin he wore. It almost never left. He even made it in recharge.  
"Can I help you with something, Smokescreen?"  
Smokescreen dimmed his optics and shuddered as Optimus deep, rumbling voice cut through him. It was low and dangerous, and fired Smokescreen up in all the right ways. "I can't just come and spend time with my favorite commander?" He turned to face him, bracing his servos on the desk. "Because you are my favorite, you know." His grin turned sultry. His focus turned to the object in his Prime's servos. "Ooh, who's is that?" He swiped the spark from his servos, rolling onto his back and staring up at it, twisting it to catch the light.  
Prime growled. "One of Megatron's seekers." He grabbed the spark back from Smokescreen as he tossed it in the air.  
"Hey! I was playing with that!" Smokescreen rolled over, but was stopped from moving forward to snatch it back with a servo seizing him by the throat. He sputtered, claws scratching at the dark wrist.  
"Didn't anyone ever teach you not to take things that weren't yours?" Optimus growled, red optics dark and glowing. Danger radiated off of him in waves.  
Smokescreen grinned. "You've tried to many times. The lessons just never seem to stick though."  
Optimus growled, his mask slamming back and lips crashing into Smokescreen's violently. Smokescreen chuckled, but it choked off into a moan as his mouth was plundered by his Prime's glossa. Optimus pulled back, and threw him down onto the desk. He hovered over him, staring intently at him.  
"Then I'll try harder this time."  
Smokescreen's grin turned wicked, and he wrapped his arms and legs around him. "I'd like to see you try." he whispered.  
The Prime's engine roared. He grabbed Smokescreen's shoulders and slammed them down onto the desk, attacking his mouth again. Smokescreen eagerly responded, whining and rubbing against him. Optimus separated their mouths, biting into his neck and groaning when he tasted energon. Smokescreen writhed, tossing his helm back to expose more of his reached across the desk, grasping the large knife and pulling it out. He pulled off his throat, grinning at him from above as he pressed the knife to his throat.  
"Open." he purred, tapping his fingers against the younger mech's panel. Smokescreen shook his helm, slag-eating grin firmly in place. Optimus' optics narrowed, and with a quick movement slashed a thin, neat line down Smokescreen's left arm. Smokescreen keened, watching as energon leaked from the cut.  
"Open." Optimus repeated, sitting the knife on the inside of his elbow and pressing, just enough to knick the wires and tubes. Smokescreen hissed, optics dimming. He shook his helm again.  
With a growl, Optimus sunk the knife halfway into his right thigh. Smokescreen arched off the desk, panel opening to reveal his valve. He wasn't stupid enough to let his spike pressurize; that was asking for a type of pain he wasn't in to.  
The knife was let go of, and two fingers thrust into his valve. His hips jerked up, but Optimus clamped his free servo down over his spike cover, preventing any more movement. He hissed angrily, earning a deep chuckle and a third finger. He shifted as much as he was able, trying to get Optimus to hit that one spot in him the lit him up, that he was purposefully avoiding.  
"Do you want something, Smokescreen?"  
Smokescreen glared. "Frag you. You know what I want!"  
Optimus hummed and withdrew his fingers. Smokescreen licked his lips in anticipation, optics bright. Without preamble, Optimus was filling him, and then pulling out, setting a quick and brutal pace. Smokescreen threw his helm back and keened as Optimus finally hit that spot with brutal accuracy. Optimus bit into the cables of his neck again, letting him feel the rumble of his laughter. The knife was yanked from his thigh and set to work on his chassis, little thin cuts all over, a shallow circle over his brand.  
With a howl and a burst of static Smokescreen overloaded, writhing on the desk and covered in his own energon. Optimus snarled, slamming into him until he too overloaded. Smokescreen grit his denta, plating flaring open to try and dispel some of the excess heat.  
Optimus spent a few moments still inside of him, before pulling out of him and looking at the mess of a mech sprawled across his desk, optics dim and engine purring. He tsked and shook his helm. "Such a sick little creature." He prodded the wound on his thigh, twirling wires around his finger and tugging gently, just to see Smokescreen jerk and whimper. "Getting off on being hurt."  
"Nng, and what about you, when you so enjoy hurting me?" Smokescreen shot back.  
Optimus hummed, releasing the wires and sitting back in his chair. "Go have Ratchet fix you up. I still want a report of your mission."  
"Mhm." He made no move to get up.  
"Smokescreen-"  
"I'm going. Eventually."  
"You try my patience, Smokescreen."  
"In all the best of ways, sir."


End file.
